


Preemptive Strike

by KathyAgel



Category: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyAgel/pseuds/KathyAgel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from Eleven Days to Zero. First in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preemptive Strike

**Author's Note:**

> A Nexus Cycle story. Part of a miniseries of missing scenes from the Voyage pilot episode, “Eleven Days to Zero”.  
> To be read in the following order:  
> 1) Preemptive Strike  
> 2) Always a Friend  
> 3) Loose Ends  
> 4) Turn the Page
> 
>  
> 
> More stories from The Nexus Cycle can be found at www.contraryrose.com.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Kathy

Admiral Harriman Nelson tiredly entered his cabin, dropped his service dress blue uniform jacket and white cover on his bunk, jerked at his necktie, then collapsed into his desk chair and lit a much-needed cigarette.

The successful mapping expedition Seaview had just completed just before everything went to hell in a handbasket was all but forgotten now. The data they’d gathered rested in the sub’s computer, ready to be turned over to the Cartography department, once things settled down. If they ever did.

The memorial service for John Phillips had been brief and to the point, as its subject would have wanted. John’s death couldn’t be allowed to delay the mission by even half a day. Chip had gone the extra yard in arranging the service, even on such damnably short notice, Nelson thought, even bringing in the Episcopal priest from John’s church in Goleta for the service in NIMR’s newly-christened auditorium.

Nelson glared at the garment bag and suitcase lying unopened on his bunk. They’d been there since he’d arrived back at NIMR from DC just before the memorial. He hadn’t had a chance to look at them, let alone think about stowing his gear.

Chip hadn’t sounded disappointed or angry when Nelson had called from DC during a short break in his meeting and told him that Seaview would be captained for the upcoming mission by a strategic-weapons-qualified sub skipper on TDY from the Navy. He’d merely accepted the news with his usual equanimity.

Nelson took a drag on his Lucky Strike and thought back to that brief, yet telling, conversation.

“The mission needs someone with Strategic Weapons Officer qualifications to command Seaview,” Nelson said.

“And I’m not quite done with mine,” Chip said, his voice even and calm over the phone line from Santa Barbara.

“Which is why we have a sub captain from the Navy coming aboard on TDY. Your oral board is all that remains of your quals, but….”

“I understand, Admiral,” Chip said. “You can’t schedule a board now.” 

“We all know you’re qualified, son. It’s just a matter of formalizing your knowledge.”

“Understood, sir.” Chip paused. “Do you know who’s being assigned to command?”

“Not yet. I expect that’s still being worked out. I hope to find out when we reconvene.”

“Aye, sir. Whoever it is, Seaview will be ready for him.”

That was it. No argument, no complaint of unfairness when he was told that the boat that should be his would be captained by another. Just acceptance and professionalism.

What did you expect? Whining? A temper tantrum? Nelson asked himself. Chip was a professional down to his bone marrow. If he felt resentment because of this, no one would ever know.

Nelson had to admit, he was curious to see how Chip interacted with Lee Crane. They’d been friends since I-Day at Annapolis, and had taken similar paths after graduation, yet, outside of a midshipman cruise on the USS Nautilus while the boat had been under Nelson’s command, they had never served together despite attending Nuclear Power School, subsequent prototype training and Submarine Officer Basic School together. Chip had been assigned to an attack boat directly after SOBC, while Lee had gone on to enroll in the strategic weapons system course at the Trident Training Facilities in Kings Bay, Georgia.

Unlike Lee Crane, who had served a tour on a missile boat, Chip had served only on attack boats in the Navy, rising to the billet of executive officer on the USS Tautog, and he hadn’t had the opportunity to complete his Strategic Weapons Officer qualifications before he’d accepted Nelson’s job offer and transferred to the Reserves and NIMR. But getting Seaview operational in such a short period of time had consumed Chip’s personal and professional lives for those months – and Nelson would always be grateful for that. Seaview would still be a dream resting in the ways awaiting completion if Chip hadn’t ridden herd on contractors and shipfitters for those long months, even supervising the installation of certain electrical systems himself. 

But his dedication to seeing Seaview through to completion hadn’t allowed Chip to fully complete the three levels of qualifications necessary to qualify him as a Strategic Weapons Officer, which was necessary to command any vessel equipped with nuclear weapons. His qual card was done, as was the written exam – with a perfect score, just as Nelson had expected. All that remained was his oral board before a number of active-duty officers who already possessed the qualification – an oral board which had been scheduled for the following week, but which would now have to wait until after the mission.

And now Nelson’s dream had come to fruition, marred only by John’s unfortunate death. 

The dream had gradually coalesced over time. Nelson had watched Seaview’s crew develop from a mishmosh of highly talented technicians and career officers into a cohesive unit. It had happened faster than he’d ever anticipated, and a crew of individuals was now a finely-tuned aggregate. 

A lot of that was due to Chip’s leadership and attitude towards the crew. John had left a lot of the actual interaction with the crew to his young XO, and Chip made the most of it. He met frequently with department heads, was always accessible to junior officers and enlisted alike, and used the CPOs and senior chiefs as his sounding boards and advisors. That alone had caused him to rise high in the estimation of the chiefs, many of whom had been in the service before Chip had even started high school.

*****

Nelson picked up the phone and called the radio shack. “Sparks, please ask Mister Morton to report to my cabin – at his convenience.” The last thing Chip needed after the past four days was an imperial summons.

Five minutes later, there was a sharp triple-rap at his cabin door. “Come,” Nelson called, just loudly to be heard on the other side.

The door swung open and Chip Morton stepped inside. “You wanted to see me, Admiral?”

“Yes, Chip. Sit down.”

Chip momentarily looked as if he wanted to refuse, and Nelson realized he must have pulled Seaview’s XO away from an important task. But he shut the door behind him and took the indicated seat. “Yes, sir.”

“We haven’t had a chance to talk, but I wanted to thank you. John’s memorial was very well done. My compliments.”

“Angie had a lot to do with it, sir,” Chip protested.

“I’m sure she did – but you had more.” Nelson paused. “What do we look like?”

“We’re right on schedule to get underway at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow, sir. Engineering is powering up the reactor as we speak.”

Engineering – that was where Chip must have been, Nelson realized. With the reactor being powered up, he’d be right in the thick of things, observing the duty watch and lending a hand where necessary.

“Good. Anything I should know about?”

Chip shook his head. “All of the equipment has been loaded and secured, Admiral. Most of the crew has reported aboard, and the rest should be on board by oh-four-hundred, if not sooner.” He paused. “Any word on our temporary captain?”

“Yes, in fact, there is,” Nelson responded. “Our temporary captain is scheduled to arrive before oh-six-hundred tomorrow. And Chip – it’s Lee Crane.”

Chip’s eyes widened with surprise, which morphed to pleasure, which then transformed to his usual neutral, watchful expression. “Lee, sir? That should be interesting.” Then the light in his eyes changed and he frowned. “Oh-six-hundred?” he asked. “Are you sure about that?”

“That’s his scheduled arrival time.” Nelson’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

“He’s going to pull something,” Chip said. “A Zulu Five Oscar, most likely.”

Nelson frowned. “An intrusion drill? You think he’d try that on his own initiative?”

Chip shook his head. “No, Admiral – I know so. It would be just like him.” He gave the ghost of a smile. “He was very good at it when we were stationed at SOBC in New London – command tapped him for it on a regular basis. He snuck past security and onto six different boats.”

“Alone?” Nelson asked in a pointed fashion.

“Well….” Chip gave him a sheepish look. “No, sir. I…tagged along on a few.”

“How many?”

Chip pursed his lips. “All six,” he admitted.

Nelson nodded. “That’s more like it.”

“But it gave me insight into this technique and tactics,” Chip said quickly. “I know how to circumvent him.”

“Then you’ll have a free hand to do so now. But, Chip – let him think he’s succeeded, at the beginning, at least.” Nelson gave Chip a tight smile. “Then you can give Commander Crane an appropriate welcome to Seaview.”

Chip gave Nelson a wide grin. “Admiral, I like the way you think.” He rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll clue Chief Jones in and formulate a plan to welcome Commander Crane to his temporary command.” 

“By all means,” Nelson said.

“Sir,” Chip said with a nod, and strode to the cabin door.

“And Chip?”

Chip turned back. “Admiral?”

“Make it one he won’t soon forget.”

Chip gave him a quick smile. “Aye, sir.” He nodded once and strode from Nelson’s cabin.

Nelson lit a fresh cigarette, leaned back in his chair, and inhaled deeply of his Camel. And so it begins….


End file.
